


Helpless

by emmagrant01



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Drug Use, F/M, First Time, Getting Together, Hamilton - Freeform, Hand Jobs, M/M, New York City, Rimming, Road Trip, canon-typical alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:18:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5186738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmagrant01/pseuds/emmagrant01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So we should ask Bits and Lardo to come with us to New York,” Shitty said.</p><p>Jack turned to look at him, frowning. “Seriously?”</p><p>“Yeah, man. I mean, I know this was supposed to be just you and me, but… We both know those two are gonna be part of our lives after graduation. It’d just be like. Getting a head start on it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helpless

**Author's Note:**

> Set April 17-20, 2015.
> 
> This fic started after a conversation on Tumblr about how someone should write a fic in which Bitty and Jack go see Hamilton. I decided to see if I could make it work, and then this story happened. The Hamilton part is actually kind of small, but it’s there! Note that, because this fic takes place in April 2015, they saw the off-Broadway version of the show. They actually went to the same performance that Michelle Obama did, but I decided it would be a bit much to include that in the fic.
> 
> The title is from the song “Helpless” on the Hamilton soundtrack. 
> 
> *knocks on your door* So have you listened to Hamilton yet? If not, it’s on Spotify. Go, listen! This fic will be here when you get back. (This musical will change your liiiiiife…)
> 
> As always, the fantabulous Drinkingcocoa’s feedback on earlier drafts of this story was incredibly valuable and sincerely appreciated.
> 
> And of course, massive thanks to Ngozi for this universe and these characters. If you haven't read _Check, Please!_ yet, you can find it [HERE](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/).

Providence’s skyline slides past the window as I-95 curves around the city center. Shitty focuses on the near-rush hour traffic and doesn’t say anything, and Jack is glad. He doesn’t really want to talk about the future, or the past, for that matter. This weekend is more about right now, appreciating who they all are to each other and what they have together. Before it all changes. 

But just for a moment, he looks and lets himself imagine what it will be like to be here. He’ll get to know the city and his teammates, find his way around. Keep himself too busy to think much about the fact that he’s going to be completely on his own for the first time in his life. 

“Vampires, seriously?” Lardo’s voice from the backseat pulls Jack from his thoughts. “Cause I could totes glitter you up if—”

Bitty laughs, and Jack finds himself smiling at the sound of it, light and musical. “Lord, no. That is not the sort of attention I’m looking to attract.” 

Lardo’s voice lowers to a whisper that Jack can’t make out.

“Shut up,” Bitty hisses. 

“Brah,” Shitty says, looking in the rear-view mirror. “When you gonna tell us what you’re plotting?”

“Not ‘til we get there,” Lardo replies. “Patience, grasshopper.”

Shitty glances at Jack, who shrugs. He only understands half of what those two talk about under ordinary circumstances. 

“This is running my battery down,” Bitty says. “Oh, wait! I wanted you to hear this.” 

They’re quiet for a moment, and then, “No, Bits, this is so my jam! It’s sick, right?”

They laugh, and then a duet of obscenity-laden rap lyrics streams from the back seat of the car. 

Jack turns an amused expression to Shitty. “Isn’t that an offensive term?”

Shitty looks over at him. “Not in the right context.”

“The right context being those two?” He glances over his shoulder. Lardo and Bitty are sharing a pair of earbuds and bobbing their heads in time to whatever they’re listening to.

“Yeah. It’s not really our word to use, yanno?”

Jack frowns at the idea that it’s Bitty’s word to use, but that’s not a conversation he wants to have right now.

“It’s a little sexier than pussy, anyway.”

Jack smirks. “If you say so.”

Shitty flashes him a quick grin before turning his attention back to the road.

Bitty and Lardo start singing about big dicks, and Jack lets his head fall back against the head rest. It’s going to be a long three hours.

“Still better than taking the Bolt,” Shitty says, as if reading his mind. “Last time I did that, a dude pissed on my shoes. Just stopped in the middle of the aisle and whipped it out.”

Jack laughs and shakes his head. “Like you haven’t been that drunk before?”

“Dude wasn’t drunk, though.” 

The chorus of the big dicks song is even raunchier than the verse, it turns out. When Shitty joins in, Jack buries his face in his hands. 

***

They leave the car at long-term parking and take a train into the city. By the time they get to the hotel it’s nearly 9:00 pm, but it’s New York, so it’s all good.

The fake ID Lardo had helped Bitty procure passes muster in the restaurant, to everyone’s relief. Bitty and Lardo sit opposite Jack and Shitty in a booth while they eat pizza and make plans for the rest of the night. It’s only Friday, so no one wants to push it too hard just yet, but there are some clubs within walking distance that Bitty wants to check out. 

“This place is supposed to be great for dancing, and this one is known for really cheap drinks, and oh, y’all.” He looks up at Jack and Shitty with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “This one is like _vampire_ -themed.”

“Swawesome!” Lardo says, grinning down at the screen of his phone. 

Jack drinks a diet coke through a straw, a vague thread of anxiety spiraling up his chest. The two of them had been given free rein to plan the nights as long as he and Shitty got to organize the days. He’s now realizing there was a flaw in that plan. 

Bitty smirks at his phone. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait until tomorrow night before I drag y’all to a gay bar.” 

Jack’s cheeks warm, but the lighting in the restaurant is dim enough that no one notices. 

Cheap Drinks wins the vote for the first stop. Cheap drinks still turn out to be ridiculously expensive, and Shitty makes at least half a dozen remarks about how they could achieve the same level of inebriation at a quarter of the price back at the hotel.

“But then we couldn’t dance!” Bitty says, dragging Lardo towards the crowd gyrating under flashing lights to something that is probably Taylor Swift. Maybe.

“Tomorrow night we’re pre-gaming at the hotel,” Shitty says.

Jack shrugs and sips his beer. The others are already three drinks ahead of him, and it’s not like he’s angling to catch up.

“We’re gonna need _más_ alcohol if we’re gonna get schwasted enough to forget all the memories we’re making this weekend.”

Jack laughs, low and easy, the way he so often does around Shitty. They sit in companionable silence and watch the crowd around them. Ten minutes later, Bitty and Lardo take a break from tearing up the dance floor to down the rest of their drinks. 

“Want another?” Shitty asks, and Lardo nods. “Bitty, you shitfaced yet?” 

“Not even. This is like the Haus on a Tuesday evening, Shits.” Bitty loops his arm through Lardo’s and grins, though he’s definitely leaning on her more than usual.

“Fuckin’ pathetic,” Shitty says, and looks questioningly at Jack. Jack holds up his half-full beer and shakes his head.

The song changes to something that makes Bitty gasp and tug at Lardo’s arm. “C’mon, dance!” 

“I gotta pee,” Lardo replies. 

“Powder room first, then.” 

Jack’s gaze follows them as they head off together in search of the restroom. They’ve been joined at the hip tonight. In fact, Bitty’s barely said two words to him since they left Samwell, and Jack’s starting to wonder if he did something wrong.

“Nah,” Shitty says when Jack asks him about it a few minutes later. “He just knows this isn’t your scene, bro. I mean, if we were at the Haus, you’d be locked in your room reading.”

That’s not quite what Jack was getting at, but he doesn’t feel like explaining further. Everything is complicated when it comes to Bitty, so much that it presses down on his chest a little when he thinks about it too hard. But the thing is, he’s running out of time. If he doesn’t screw up his courage and say something soon, it’ll be too late. In a few weeks, he’ll graduate and move away, and Bitty will just be another friend from college that he’ll slowly lose touch with. The thought is terrifying. 

No, that’s not going to happen. This is the weekend. He’s going to find the right moment, then tell Bitty how much he means to him, see if maybe Bitty feels the same, maybe wants to do something about it before it’s too late. He can do that. 

Bitty is usually easy to talk to, as easy as Shitty and Lardo are. Except that he’s barely made eye contact with Jack today, not since the breakfast with the Dean that morning and Jack’s speech about how much his time at Samwell had meant to him. He’d left with Lardo before Jack had even been able to talk to him, and the next time Jack had seen him was when Shitty picked them all up that afternoon to drive to New York.

Jack raises his glass to his lips and takes a sip.

Still, it’s good to be away from campus with people he genuinely calls friends. It feels real, somehow, like a preview of what it might be like when college is over and he can start to build a life for himself. He’s been so consumed with classes and hockey and keeping his head above water that he hasn’t let himself do anything like this. And here they are, and it’s… fun, actually. 

Bitty and Lardo hit the dance floor again, and Jack can’t help but watch the way Bitty moves. He’s fluid, graceful, confident, and… well, _hot_. It’s overtly sexual, the sort of confident dancing that Jack’s never been good at. Jack’s seen Bitty dancing around the Haus and at a few school dances before, but there’s something different about the way he moves now, something that verges on predatory. 

Jack lets his gaze slide around the crowd, and realizes that he’s not the only one watching. There’s a guy dancing a few feet away from Bitty who’s leering, not even subtle about it. He steps in close to Bitty and puts a hand on his side. Bitty turns to look at the guy and gives him a sly smile, then pulls Lardo back against him. His hand slides around to her stomach and she pushes back, grinding her ass against him. Bitty’s admirer laughs, but he doesn’t leave; he actually seems encouraged. He presses himself against Bitty’s back, hands sliding down to Bitty’s hips, sandwiching him between himself and Lardo.

“Brah,” Shitty says, leaning in close. “He’s all up on your boy.”

Jack presses his lips together. Bitty’s not his boy — that’s the problem. 

Bitty turns in the guy’s arms and pushes him away playfully. Lardo’s hands slide around Bitty’s abdomen then, down toward his groin in a way that looks possessive. She gives the guy a fierce look over Bitty’s shoulder, and he finally holds up his hands in a gesture of defeat and turns away. Bitty laughs and relaxes against Lardo, letting her grind up against him. He reaches around to get a handful of her ass, and she laughs. He turns in her arms and they move together fluidly. 

“Damn.” Shitty raises his eyebrows at Jack. “I am not nearly drunk enough for this.”

Jack knows it’s not real, that they aren’t interested in each other that way, but he can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy that Lardo can grope Bitty like that in full view of everyone and he… _well_. He could. But. 

Jack looks away, trying to find something other than the dance floor to focus on.

They head to the vampire bar after that round, which turns out to be sort of fascinatingly creepy. All the drinks are red, including the beer, and the gothic vibe is more entertaining than Jack expected. Bitty and Lardo plan to go to a dance club next, but Jack and Shitty are ready to call it a night.

Calling it a night means Shitty’s lighting up in the hotel room, of course. Jack doesn’t mind; he actually likes high!Shitty a lot. They’ve had some of their best conversations while Shitty was stoned. In fact, this trip was the result of just such a stoney night out on the roof in February. It had been cold out that night, and the crisp air had stung Jack’s nose in that way that reminded him of home.

“So I was thinking,” Shitty had said, and then trailed off. He was silent for nearly 30 seconds, leaning back against the side of the Haus and looking up at the sky. 

“Hmmm?” Jack had asked at last, poking him in the ribs.

“Wha?”

“Were you just telling me you’ve been thinking, or were you thinking about something in particular?”

“Fuck, I dunno.” Shitty laughed and leaned more heavily against Jack’s shoulder. “What were we talking about?”

Jack grinned. “New York.”

“Oh, right, yeah. So we should ask Bits and Lardo to come with us.”

Jack turned to look at him, frowning. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, man. I mean, I know this was supposed to be just you and me, but… We both know those two are gonna be part of our lives after graduation. It’d just be like. Getting a head start on it.” 

Jack flushed and looked away again. Shitty was the only person outside his immediate family who knew he was leaning toward signing with Providence. Jack would be lying if he’d said that staying close to Samwell and his friends wasn’t at least a part of the reason. But he hadn’t said a word about his massive crush on Bitty to anyone, and he didn’t plan to. _There be dragons._

Still, if Shitty wanted to invite Lardo — and Jack wanted Shitty and Lardo to get their act together as much as anyone did — it only made sense to bring a fourth person along. Bitty was the obvious choice, since he was basically Lardo’s BFF and Shitty’s bro and Jack’s… whatever. 

Jack exhaled, slowly. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Cool, bro. I’ll talk to Lardo.”

Jack half-expected (and feared) Shitty to forget all about it once he sobered up, but he didn’t. Lardo and Bitty had enthusiastically agreed, and Jack had spent the next two months obsessing about the fact that he was going on a weekend-long maybe-double-date with three of the people he cared about most in the world.

And now here they are.

Jack’s and Shitty’s phones buzz at the same time, and they both pick them up to look. It’s a photo of Bitty and Lardo puckering for the camera, their faces bathed in colorful lights.

“Shwasted,” Shitty says, grinning.

Jack frowns at his phone and taps out a reply: _Text us when you get back to the hotel._

The reply comes from Lardo: _Sure thing, Pops_. Accompanied by a photo of her winking while Bitty laughs against her cheek.

Jack sets the phone aside and sighs. 

“They’ll be fine.”

“I know.” He isn’t exactly sure why he’s worried. They’ll stick together, after all. 

Shitty flops down on his bed and hums contentedly. “What time are we meeting them in the morning?”

“Nine.”

Shitty is quiet for nearly a minute before he speaks again. “Bro. Can I ask a personal question?”

Jack’s stomach flips. “Um, sure.”

“Are you scared?”

“Sorry?”

“I mean, this is it, you know? In a few weeks we’ll have moved out of the Haus and everything will change.”

Jack exhales slightly and nods, even though Shitty can’t really see it. “Yeah, I… I don’t know. Sometimes.” His mom is going to take him to meet with a realtor friend of hers in Providence in a couple of weeks. He’s going to buy a fucking condo, probably. And furniture. The thought of it is sometimes enough to make him want to put his head between his knees.

“I’m just… Shit, man. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing sometimes, going to law school. These last few years at Samwell have been fucking amazing, but it’s all gonna change. I’m gonna…” He reaches for the joint on the nightstand, re-lights it, and raises it to his lips. He’s quiet for half a minute. “I don’t want things to change. But what if they have to? What if I like, sell out and turn into some Republican asshole like my dad?”

Jack grins. “Lardo will never fuck you if you do.”

Shitty snickers and tokes the joint again. He puts it out with his fingers and sets it down, then exhales. “That’s the fuckin’ answer, man. Pussy’ll keep me right.”

Jack laughs, feeling something go loose in his chest. “We gotta open a window, Shits. I’ve inhaled too much of that.”

“I can shotgun you next time.”

“I might slip my tongue in if you do.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Shitty says, then bursts out laughing.

Jack laughs too, so hard his chest aches. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Nope.” Shitty settles back against his bed. “You’re gonna be hoisting the fuckin’ Cup on TV and I’ll tell my kids about the time you made a pass at me in a dorm room back in ‘11.”

“And that’s how I’ll be outed, probably.” Jack sighs and stares up at the ceiling. If he ever gets there, will he still be hiding? 

“Sorry, bro. Didn’t mean to harsh your buzz.”

Jack rolls onto his side to see Shitty watching him from the other bed. “My turn to ask you one.”

Shitty makes finger guns. “Shoot.”

“Are you gonna tell Lardo?”

Shitty rolls onto his back with a groan. “If I have to answer that, you do too.”

“You think there’s something I need to tell Lardo?” Jack grins at him.

Shitty snickers. “I dunno, man. Waiting for the right moment, I guess. But the point is, I’m running out of moments. It would suck to tell her how much I fuckin’ love her, find out she’s into me too, and then get right in the car and drive away. I mean, all that time we could’ve had, you know?”

Jack winces. “Yeah.”

“So what I should really do is take her to the top of the Empire State Building and declare my devotion, Tom Hanks-style.”

“I can see it now.” Jack’s just high enough to try out his impressions of Shitty and Lardo. “Brah, this is romantic as fuck. _I know, right?_ Like we should kiss or something. _Great idea, bro!_ ”

“You’re right, she’d hate it.”

“Nah. Under that tough dude-bro exterior, she just wants to be treated like a princess.” Jack can’t keep a straight face, and dissolves into a snickering laugh. “Give her flowers and a pony.”

Shitty hurls a pillow at him. “Your turn. You gonna tell Bits you’ve been hot for him for a year and a half?”

Jack rolls his face into his pillow. Fair’s fair, but he really, _really_ doesn’t want to talk about this. His life is about to get extremely complicated, and the idea of dragging another person into that — a person he genuinely cares about, a person he’s sure he would just end up hurting — is enough to make him want to curl up into a ball and hide.

“So that’s a yes?”

Jack flips him off and Shitty sighs. “Your loss, bro.”

That’s exactly the problem. He’s been trying _not_ to be selfish about this. He knows what it’s going to be like these next couple of years, and he doesn’t want to make Bitty promises he can’t keep. Bitty has two more years of college and as far as Jack knows, he’s never had a serious boyfriend. It’s not fair to ask him to be Jack’s dirty little secret one weekend a month when he could be living his life, being happy. He deserves happy.

And of course, this is all assuming that Bitty is even interested. Well, Jack’s pretty sure he is, unless he’s been reading the signs wrong all along. But what he doesn’t know is what Bitty would want from him. Maybe he’d be fine just hooking up these last couple of weeks, having a quick fling before Jack goes to training camp, then moving on with his life. But the idea of that makes Jack’s stomach clench. He’s spent the last few years alternating between celibacy and awkwardly hooking up with people he didn’t care about. He doesn’t want that anymore, not with anyone — but particularly not with someone like Bitty. 

Bitty is… Jack inhales, exhales again. Bitty is special, the sort of person Jack thinks he could spend a long time with. 

“Yeah, Shits. I think… if I don’t do it now, I think I’ll regret it forever.”

Shitty starts to snore, and Jack looks over at him. He’s asleep. Jack flops back on the bed and scrubs at his face with the palms of his hands. 

A half-hour later, Jack’s phone buzzes. He picks it up and stares groggily at the screen. _Were back._ From Bitty, just to him. He smiles and curls onto his side to text him back.

_Have fun?_

Bitty’s reply comes almost immediately. _itwas crAZY. So drunk rn. Bed spiining._

Jack’s mind is filled with a mental image of Bitty stretched out on the bed in the room next door. _you okay?_

 _fantASTIc_. Then a moment later, _you?_

_Got a contact high, but otherwise fine._

_im lookking fowrard to tomorrow…_

Jack smiles. _Get some sleep, Bittle. Breakfast at 9._

A full minute later: _yes captain_

Jack closes his eyes and sighs. He’s terrible at this. He can hardly flirt in person without it coming off as stilted, but he’s hopeless at doing it via text. He spends nearly five minutes trying to come up with a reply before he gives up and puts the phone face-down on the nightstand.

***

After breakfast they head downtown to see the Statue of Liberty and the World Trade Center Memorial. Jack takes photos of everything. He gets shots of Lardo and Shitty standing close together looking out across the water, pictures of Bitty staring up at tall buildings, and of pigeons and narrow streets and Chinese market stands. They’re on the ferry to Ellis Island when Lardo finally holds out her hand and says “Gimme.” He hands her the camera and she shoos him toward Bitty, who’s looking back at the Manhattan skyline.

He bumps Bitty’s shoulder, and Bitty turns to look at him. “Smile, Bits.”

Bitty gives him a quizzical look until he sees Lardo standing with the camera. Bitty smiles and leans into Jack, and Jack puts an arm around him, pulls him as close as he dares. He sees Shitty grinning at him from behind Lardo’s shoulder. Lardo takes several shots, then has them move to the left to get a better view of the city behind them. 

“Get closer.” Her smile is a little mischievous.

“Just take it already,” Bitty says. The tips of his ears are pink and the sunlight catches his hair. He has little freckles on his cheeks that Jack knows will darken when summer comes.

“Don’t move,” Lardo says. She takes a few more photos and finally hands the camera back to Jack. 

It isn’t until Jack is looking through the photos over lunch that he realizes the last batch were all closeups of the two of them. And in every single photo, Jack is staring at Bitty with an utterly lovestruck expression.

“Oooh, can I see?” Bitty asks from across the table.

Fortunately their food comes at that moment. Jack flushes and puts the camera away.

Shitty and Lardo are going to the MoMA that afternoon, so they take the subway uptown. Jack and Bitty are heading to see an off-Broadway show near NYU, so they walk up Thompson Street towards Washington Square Park. The street is quiet and lined with trees, and it’s unexpectedly charming. 

It’s also the first time they’ve been alone together on the trip, and the awkward silence is nearly overwhelming. Jack’s used to hanging out with Bitty around the Haus and on campus, but something about this afternoon feels different. They walk along, occasionally stealing glances at each other, and Jack wracks his brain for something — anything — to say. 

“So are you having a good time?” he finally says, just as Bitty asks, “So what’s this play about, anyway?” 

They laugh and grin at each other, and just like that, the tension is broken. Jack exhales with relief. 

“The play,” Bitty prompts, bumping his shoulder against Jack’s arm.

“It’s a musical. About Alexander Hamilton.” He turns to see Bitty’s reaction. He isn’t disappointed: Bitty’s mouth is open for a full three seconds.

“Of course it is,” Bitty says at last. He smiles and shakes his head. “You’re taking me to see a musical about history. Why am I even surprised?” 

Jack feels a small pulse of excitement at the idea that Bitty maybe considers this a date. “These tickets were hard to get, you know. I had to call in a favor.”

Bitty scrunches up his nose. “Really?”

“Apparently it’s the next big thing. Everybody in the history department’s been raving about it.” He doesn’t say that the tickets were originally for him and Shitty, and that Shitty had happily bowed out to spend the afternoon listening to Lardo wax philosophic about modern art instead. 

“I never got much into musicals. That was the one stereotype I managed to miss.” 

Jack laughs at that. “Me either, honestly. My mom loves musicals, so she dragged me to a lot of them when I was a kid.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many skaters use music from _The Phantom of the Opera_. It’s enough to put you off for life.” 

“If you hate it, you can make me listen to an equivalent amount of Beyoncé in retaliation.”

Bitty grins at him. “Deal.”

Bitty doesn’t hate it. From the opening number, he’s enthralled. Jack’s never been much of a theatre fan either, but he has to admit that this treatment of Hamilton’s life is inspired. He read Chernow’s biography for a class a year ago, and he’s amazed at the level of historical detail in the lyrics. He even has to admit that the musical style works, as strange as he’d found the idea of a hip-hop treatment of the American Revolution when he first heard about it.

At intermission, Bitty babbles for ten minutes straight about how each character’s voice represents a different style of music and what that might imply about the characters, and Jack doesn’t hear a word of it. No, that’s not quite right: he hears it all, but he processes none of it; he just watches Bitty’s face and hands and soaks up his enthusiasm while his heart pounds in his chest.

Bitty gasps and grabs Jack’s arm, his brown eyes huge. “Oh my god, Angelica is _Beyoncé_!” He looks for a moment like he might burst with excitement. He makes a squeaking sound and buries his face against Jack’s shoulder. Jack slides an arm around him without even thinking about it, and Bitty sighs against his shirt. “Sorry I’m so ridiculous.”

Jack strokes his back in a way he hopes comes across as comforting and not like he’s enjoying the feeling of Bitty’s toned body under his fingers. “You’re not ridiculous. You just like it, and that’s… fantastic.”

Bitty looks up at him and smiles, and Jack is lost. He is so, so in love with Eric Bittle, and there is nothing he can do now but stare at him helplessly. Something shifts on Bitty’s face. For a full second he looks almost gobsmacked, then his lips curve into a careful, hopeful smile. Jack feels his cheeks heat. He forces himself to look away.

“I… uh…” He gestures toward the back of the theater. “If I’m gonna make it back before intermission’s over, I should probably go to the bathroom now.”

For a moment he thinks Bitty might decide to come with him, but the Bro Code is apparently still in effect, so he doesn’t. He just nods and sits back in his seat, looking thoughtful.

In the bathroom, Jack splashes water on his face and stares at his reflection. His stomach is doing gymnastics, but this, this is good. This is what he was hoping for, that this weekend would provide them an opportunity to be Jack-and-Bitty away from the Haus and the ice, to see what it might be like to actually be a couple outside of Samwell. _After_ Samwell, because that’s sort of unavoidably in front of him right now. 

And Bitty _knows_ , he’s sure of it, knows that Jack is ridiculously gone for him. Now maybe Jack isn’t going to have to say it out loud, isn’t going to have to dredge up the words to tell him, to ask him if he might feel something too. It’s out there, and that’s… a relief.

The lights blink a two-minute warning. He takes a deep breath and walks back to his seat. 

Bitty smiles warmly at him when he sits and leans into Jack’s shoulder more than before. The actors take the stage again before either of them can say anything, and then the performance is so riveting that Jack finds himself distracted from the whirl of Bitty-related anxiety in his head. He almost takes Bitty’s hand towards the emotional end of the second act, but before he can do it, Bitty clasps that hand over his mouth because he’s crying. Jack doesn’t know what to do, so he keeps his focus on the stage, his fingers clenching and unclenching against his thighs. 

The applause at the end is thunderous. The crowd is abuzz as they exit, and Jack quickly loses Bitty in the crowd. He heads outside and stops at the bottom of the concrete stairs. Just as he pulls out his phone to text him, a message appears on the screen. 

_Look to your left._

He looks: Bitty is standing on the other side of the wide steps, his hair practically glowing in the afternoon sunlight. He smiles, looking as happy as Jack has ever seen him, and Jack’s stomach flips pleasantly. They smile at each other across the stream of people exiting the theater. It’s almost like being in a movie, one of the ridiculous rom-coms that Holster likes to make them watch.

At last the crowd thins enough that they can walk towards each other. Bitty grins at him, biting his lower lip, and reaches out to tug at the sleeve of Jack’s shirt. 

“Thank you. It was amazing.”

Jack doesn’t let himself look away this time. His fingers close around Bitty’s and squeeze once before letting go. “You’re welcome.”

They take the subway to Times Square and end up sitting on the steps, watching the human circus swirl around them. Jack wishes he had his camera, but he let Lardo borrow it for the afternoon.

“I just,” Bitty says, and takes a deep breath, “I didn’t know any of that. It made me think of them as real people. I mean, I know they were real people, of course, but they lived so long ago and like… they’re just old dead white guys in books, you know? I never really thought about it.”

He’s babbling, but Jack finds himself hanging on every word. “That’s what I love about history, I guess. People think it’s just a list of facts you learn in school, but when you dig in and read the actual words people wrote, letters they sent each other, and compare all the different perspectives so you can try to piece together what really happened, it’s… fascinating.” 

Bitty nods. “My mom made me watch _1776_ every summer. And of course we read the Declaration of Independence in school and did the standard unit on the Revolutionary War and the Constitution and all, but.” Bitty pauses for a moment. “I mean, I guess I didn’t know Jefferson was such an asshole.”

Jack leans back against the steps and slides an arm behind him. “I think most of those guys were assholes, really. Who is the bigger asshole depends on your perspective.”

“The man owned slaves and wrote _all men are created equal_. That’s being an asshole.”

“Point.” Jack smiles. “I think you have to be an asshole to be a successful politician in any time period.”

“That’s definitely true of the ones from Georgia.” Bitty turns to look at him. Jack’s leaning back enough that Bitty has to look down. “Hey — thanks for this. For all of it. I had an amazing time.”

Jack stares back up at him, at the way his eyes seem so big and brown, at the bit of wind ruffling his hair. “So did I.”

“Best first date ever.” Bitty’s voice is quiet, almost tentative.

Warmth floods Jack’s chest. “Good.” 

And there — it’s out there now, no denying it. Bitty smiles and bites his lip, and for a moment, Jack thinks Bitty is going to kiss him. It would be so easy like this, now, alone in a crowd in a big city. Jack looks up at him and wets his lower lip with his tongue. Bitty’s eyes focus on his mouth.

“Um, excuse me?” 

He looks up to see two young women grinning at him. 

“Are you Jack Zimmermann?” one of them asks.

Bitty slides a couple of feet away, snickering, and Jack stifles a sigh. 

“Yeah.”

They want autographs and selfies, and he obliges. They’re so excited that he’ll be playing for Providence, and he thanks them for their support. Bitty taps at his phone the entire time, and Jack is certain he’s tweeting this whole thing.

The girls finally leave, but by then everyone around them is aware that Jack is someone they’re supposed to recognize. He pretends not to see them staring and whispering and taking sly photos. He keeps his expression neutral, even though what he really wants to do is press his face into his knees. 

This is what it’s going to be like. It always has been, to an extent, but it’s just going to get worse now that he’s going to play in the NHL. He can’t escape the fact that when he’s in public, people will likely recognize him, even when he’s nowhere near home. 

His breath hitches in his throat: if anything had happened between him and Bitty before those girls came over, it would have been all over the internet by the end of the day. 

He takes a deep breath.

“Shitty and Lardo want us to meet them at a Mexican restaurant at 50th and 8th.”

Jack nods, glad for a reason to go somewhere else. “Want to head over now?”

“Sure.” Bitty tucks his phone in his pocket and they start to walk.

Lardo and Shitty are already at a table, sitting close together and talking. Lardo reaches up to tuck a stray bit of hair behind Shitty’s ear, and he honest-to-god blushes. Jack and Bitty exchange a sly glance and sit opposite them. 

“How was the play?” Shitty asks.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Bitty says, and raves about it for ten solid minutes. 

They have margaritas and some of the most amazing guacamole Jack has ever tasted. Bitty presses his thigh against Jack’s under the table and Jack presses back, listening raptly to Lardo’s story about Shitty’s emotional reaction to _Starry Night_. A few good chirps form in his head, but the look on Shitty’s face stops him from saying anything. Shitty is watching Lardo like she hung the moon, and it’s adorable. 

Shitty starts talking about some of the other pieces they saw, but Jack finds his attention drifting. He’s far too conscious of the heat of Bitty’s body where they’re touching, of the way Bitty laughs and says “that’s amazing” so genuinely. His brain threatens to melt down when Bitty’s fingers graze his thigh. He feels his cheeks heat and looks up to see Lardo smiling at him knowingly.

Their entrees arrive and the conversation turns to the excellent food in front of them. They all take bites from each other’s dishes, and Jack lets Bitty feed him a forkful of chicken with mole sauce that is so heavenly Jack actually moans. The resulting blush on Bitty’s face is worth the chirping he gets from Shitty for it. 

They’re all pleasantly buzzed by the time they get back to the hotel. They pile up in Jack’s and Shitty’s room and spend another hour pre-gaming on some vodka mixers that Shitty and Lardo picked up that afternoon. Bitty’s phone is plugged into the room’s clock radio, one of his many Spotify playlists blaring through the tinny speakers. He can’t seem to keep still when music is playing, which Jack finds weirdly adorable. 

Bitty and Lardo quietly discuss their plans for the evening over the screen of Lardo’s iPad. Bitty taps the screen, then leans in close and whispers something that makes Lardo burst into the most girlish giggles Jack has ever heard from her. Jack glances over at Shitty, but he’s busy mixing liquids from three bottles on the other side of the room and doesn’t seem to notice. 

Jack settles back against the headboard of his bed, propped up on pillows, and watches them all. It’s fun and easy, and Jack almost wishes they could just stay here all night. He imagines having his own place in Providence and the three of them spending the weekend with him. It would be like this, probably, with music and laughter and food and drinks and everyone relaxed and happy to be together. 

“Refill,” Shitty says, sliding onto the bed next to him and holding out a glass. Jack takes a sip and nods approvingly: it’s some sort of peach-flavored concoction, but it’s not as sweet as Jack had expected. He doesn’t usually drink this much, but it’s settling his nerves right now. He lifts an arm and Shitty settles against his side, head on Jack’s shoulder. “We don’t cuddle enough, bro.”

“You climb in my bed all the time.”

“In public, I mean. I’m fuckin’ secure in my masculinity.”

Jack laughs and kisses his forehead.

“Such bros,” Lardo says.

Jack looks up to see Bitty and Lardo grinning at them. Bitty has his phone in his hand.

“Can I…?”

Jack groans. “Just don’t tweet it.”

“Course not.” Bitty snaps the photo and grins. “I’ll just send it to the group chat.”

All their phones start buzzing within ten seconds. Jack doesn’t bother looking, though; he takes another drink and leans his cheek against the top of Shitty’s head. He’s more content at this moment than he’s been in a long time. Despite the occasional feeling of impending doom, his life is actually falling into place at long last. And of course, the people in this room are a large part of that. He can’t imagine not having them in his life; even the thought of not seeing them every day makes his chest hurt. 

“Thanks, Shits,” he whispers.

“For what?”

“This was a good idea. This trip.”

Shitty chuckles. “I knew you’d come around.”

“All right, boys,” Lardo says, pushing to her feet. “We’re gonna go get changed.”

“That’ll be an hour, eh?” Jack grins, but Lardo and Bitty just nod at him. Jack frowns: he’d meant it as a chirp, but no one seemed to notice.

“Club ready, both of you.” Bitty gives them both a fierce look. “Don’t fall asleep, or Lardo will draw dicks on your faces in sharpie.”

“No fuckin’ chill,” Shitty groans as they head back to their room through the connecting door.

Jack showers and changes into an outfit that Bitty had picked out on Thursday evening. He’d asked Jack what he was wearing to go clubbing, and had looked horrified when Jack had gestured at the t-shirt and jeans he’d worn to class and said, “Uh, something like this?”

“Oh, honey, no,” Bitty’d said, and walked straight to Jack’s closet to rummage through it. He’d come out with a pair of artfully torn jeans that Jack’s mother had given him for Christmas (apparently they were ridiculously expensive?) and a new black Under Armour tee.

“How is that different from what I’m wearing right now?”

Bitty had given him a pitying look. “You’re not even chirping me, are you?”

“But that shirt… it’s for wearing under a t-shirt when I go running.”

“So?”

“It’s really tight.”

Bitty’s smirk had been epic. “That’s the point, Jack.”

Looking at his reflection in the mirror now, he has to admit that Bitty had been right. 

Shitty wolf-whistles when he comes out of the bathroom. “You glorious motherfucker, how do you even exist?”

Jack rolls his eyes, but he smiles anyway. “Bitty’s idea,” he says.

“He might regret that choice when you start gettin’ wheeled by everyone in the bar.” Shitty runs a hand through his flow. “Damn, bro, I’d hit on you if I thought you’d say yes.”

Jack tries for a flirtatious grin. “How do you know I won’t?”

“Cause you’re holding out for a small southern baker.” Shitty pokes at Jack’s abs and shakes his head. “And he would poison me with a mini-pie if I made a move on you tonight.”

“And Lardo would kick my ass, so.” Jack throws an arm around Shitty’s shoulders and laughs. 

“Who knew you’d be a fuckin’ cuddly drunk?”

“M’not drunk. I’ve only had like, three drinks, including that margarita at dinner.”

“This is the drunkest I’ve ever seen you, man.” Shitty wipes away an imaginary tear. “I’m honored.”

The door between the rooms opens, and they both turn to look. Jack is close enough to hear Shitty suck in a quick breath. Jack isn’t sure he can breathe at all.

Bitty and Lardo look _hot_. Like, stunningly, incredibly hot. Lardo’s short hair is swept away from her face and streaked with color that wasn’t there an hour ago. She’s wearing more make-up than Jack has ever seen on her, and it somehow has the effect of making her look like a sultry punk-rock pixie. She’s wearing a net shirt over a sequined bra, and a black leather miniskirt over fishnets. Her shoes — fuck, he’s never seen anything quite so menacing on her feet, but it works. Shitty leans against Jack slightly, clearly overwhelmed.

Bitty’s look is more subdued, but clearly influenced by Lardo. His hair is artfully mussed and he’s wearing eyeliner, and the effect is sort of startling. His shirt looks like something Lardo designed herself: the base is a tight white t-shirt, but it’s been spray painted and embellished with sequins and intentional tears in the fabric. He’s wearing black pants that must have been painted on, because _Jesus_ , that’s just… Jack swallows.

Bitty and Lardo loop their arms together and grin, clearly pleased with the response.

“How long have you two been planning this?” Shitty asks.

“Since the day you invited us,” she replies. She holds up a fist and Bitty bumps it, grinning. “Clubbing in the city, bro. That’s some serious shit. Ready?” 

Jack and Shitty glance at each other, then nod. 

“Then let’s go tear it up.”

Bitty gives Jack one long, meaningful onceover before turning to follow Lardo, and Jack has to take a calming breath. 

“We are so, so fucked,” Shitty whispers, and Jack can only nod in agreement.

***

They hail a taxi to take them downtown. The driver has a duffel bag in the front passenger seat, so they all climb into the back. Lardo is sandwiched between Jack and Shitty, and Bitty slides onto Jack’s lap. Jack tries to act casual, but the combination of alcohol and hormones buzzing in his brain makes him feel almost loopy. By the time the cab gets to 35th, he can’t stand it anymore. His hand settles on Bitty’s hip on the door side, and he slides his palm slowly down the underside of Bitty’s thigh. Bitty goes completely still, not even breathing until Jack curls his fingertips under the crease of his knee. 

Bitty shifts sideways to face Lardo and Shitty, one arm sliding around Jack’s shoulders. He leans down to whisper, “Tickles.” 

Jack knows he’s pushing it, but he can’t stop himself. His hand curves against Bitty’s backside, his thumb drawing a slow, methodical line down the cleft of his ass as far as he can reach. Bitty bites his lip and flushes, and Jack keeps going, two fingers pressing meaningfully up into the give of the fabric before stroking back up again. 

Bitty ducks his head, lips almost pressed to Jack’s ear. “You are a very bad boy, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Jack smirks and slides his hand up inside Bitty’s shirt to stroke the soft skin at the base of his spine. Bitty and Lardo start talking about the club they’re heading to, and Jack can’t resist dipping his fingertips beneath the waistband of Bitty’s pants, far enough down to stroke into the dip just below. Bitty’s voice hitches and he wriggles slightly on Jack’s lap, pressing his ass against Jack’s groin, and _oh_ — Jack feels a sudden rush of arousal. Ah, no: these jeans are tight enough as it is. He moves his hand to Bitty’s back again, outside the shirt, fingers tracing small circles against the fabric. Bitty cards his fingers up into Jack’s hair, his fingernails scratching lightly against the scalp.

Jack looks over to see Shitty smirking at him knowingly. He presses his forehead against Bitty’s shoulder and laughs. It’s going to be a long fucking night.

The cab drops them off around the corner from the entrance to the club. Bitty’s fingers drag down Jack’s inner thigh when he slides out of the cab, but he loops his arm through Lardo’s as soon as they’re all on the sidewalk. Shitty bumps Jack’s shoulder as they follow, and gives him a conspiratorial grin. 

It’s early enough that there isn’t a line for the club yet, so they walk straight in. The space is bigger than Jack expected, and even though the dance floor is already crowded, they’re able to find a table in a far corner. 

“I’ll get the first round,” Jack says. Bitty and Lardo head straight to the dance floor, and Shitty sits at the table while Jack heads to the bar. 

When he leans against the bar waiting to get the bartender’s attention, he starts to become aware that people around him are looking at him. Not staring at him so much as _noticing_ him with interest. He usually shies away from that sort of attention, but tonight it feels… good. 

A woman with long blond hair and an extremely revealing shirt bumps into him just as the bartender finally turns to him.

“Sorry,” he tells her before ordering two beers, a vodka tonic, a Manhattan, and four tequila shots (Shitty’s idea). The bartender nods and turns away, and the woman beside him catches his eye again. 

“You look familiar.” She’s smiling at him in a way he recognizes; he sees it after nearly every game. “Where do I know you from?”

He shrugs. “I have no idea.”

“I know I’ve seen you before.” She slides a hand up his arm. “God, you’re ripped. Actor or athlete?”

He smiles and steps back a little, dislodging her. “I’m nobody interesting, I promise.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She smirks up at him, clearly expecting her interest to be returned.

The bartender sets drinks in front of Jack and takes his offered credit card. 

“Is one of those for me?” The woman’s smile has gone from flirtatious to outright leering, and Jack can only laugh at her forwardness. 

“I’m here with friends, actually.”

“Is one of them a girlfriend?”

 _Boyfriend, actually_ — he wishes he had the nerve to say it out loud. Instead he shakes his head and turns to look at the dance floor, searching out Bitty and Lardo. He spots them at last, makes eye contact with Lardo and nods meaningfully toward the drinks next to him. She whispers something to Bitty that makes him laugh and they head towards him.

The woman tries to make small talk again, but Jack is rescued by the bartender with his credit card receipt to sign. 

“Fuck, bro, you tryna get us all smashed?” Lardo insinuates herself between Jack and his new fan, giving her a sharp glance. She hands the Manhattan and a shot to Bitty and then picks up her own drinks. 

The woman frowns and moves away, and Jack exhales with relief. 

They take the drinks back to the table, where Shitty immediately chastises Jack for not getting salt and lime. 

“I’m on it,” Lardo says, and returns a few minutes later with the necessities. She sprinkles salt and distributes lime slices like they’re back at the Haus. 

“Raise a glass to the four of us,” Jack says when they all pick up the glasses.

Bitty grins at the _Hamilton_ reference and clinks his glass against Jack’s. “Time to take a shot.”

Shitty and Lardo exchange a confused glance, and Jack feels a little thrill at having made a joke only Bitty gets.

They all touch the shot glasses together and Shitty says, “Lick, swallow, suck.”

Jack winces at the first whiff of tequila, but he manages to get it down without retching. It’s been a long time since he’s done a tequila shot, and there is a very good reason for that.

“Fucking disgusting,” Bitty says, making a face like he’s having the same issue. 

Shitty and Lardo bump fists. 

“Bro, we need another round of those,” she says.

“No,” Jack and Bitty say in unison.

“Then you’re dancing,” Lardo says with a grin, and grabs Jack’s hand. He lets her lead him to the dance floor, pretending to resist. The alcohol helps, though, and he actually has fun. He sees Lardo grinning in the direction of their table, and when he turns, Bitty is staring at him with such an expression of heat that Jack actually stumbles into Lardo.

“You should dance with him,” Lardo says, poking him in the ribs. “He’d flip his shit.”

Jack laughs and shakes his head. As much as he would like that, he’s not sure he could handle it tonight. The possibility of springing an embarrassing public boner would be pretty much 100%. 

“Fine, loser.” She shoves at his chest. “Go tell Shits to get his ass out here.”

He resists the urge to ruffle her hair, but only barely. All he has to do is raise his eyebrows at Shitty, and Shitty knocks back the rest of his beer, stands, and heads toward the dance floor.

“This’ll be fun,” Bitty says as Jack sits beside him. 

“You ever seen Shits dance?” Jack reaches for his beer and takes a sip.

Bitty frowns. “Goodness, I… I’m actually not sure.”

Five minutes later, Bitty is leaning on Jack’s shoulder and laughing so hard he’s crying. It’s not that Shitty is a terrible dancer or anything; it’s that he has his own unique, uninhibited style. Lardo looks amused, but she’s giving him a run for his money. When Jack looks back, they’ve got half a dozen people around them doing something that seems to be a blend of _Thriller_ and the Travolta/Thurman dance from _Pulp Fiction_. Jack presses his thigh against Bitty’s under the table, and Bitty’s fingers press into Jack’s hip. It’s easy to slide his arm around the back of Bitty’s chair, so he does, easy to duck down and press his lips against Bitty’s hair while he laughs.

Bitty looks up at him, his eyes sparkling, and god, Jack wants to kiss him. He wants it so badly, but not here, not like this, in the middle of a nightclub where anyone could see. 

He sits back and picks up his beer, takes a sip to give his mouth something to do. Bitty watches him for a moment, then picks up his own glass and takes a very large drink. 

“Hey.” Jack trails his fingers up the length of Bitty’s thigh under the table and leans in close. “Don’t drink too much tonight, okay?”

Bitty’s face flushes. He pushes his drink across the table and nods, then looks back at Jack almost shyly. Jack has to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning, and Bitty’s gaze goes straight to his mouth. The pulse of heat Jack feels makes him squirm in his chair.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, providing a desperately needed distraction. It’s a text from Holster:

 _JACK WALKIN IN DA CLUB LIKE_ and it’s followed by a link to something on Twitter.

Jack clicks the link, and his heart sinks. 

It’s not just a single tweet; it’s a whole hashtag: #jzimmsnyc, and it’s full of grainy cell phone photos from this club, tonight, many accompanied by comments about how he’s partying hard for an addict. He scrolls down, and there are others from earlier in the day, the selfies he took with the girls in Times Square, photos of the four of them walking around the Statue of Liberty. He scrolls back to the top and refreshes the page, half expecting to see a new photo of himself staring down at his phone — with his arm around Bitty. Jesus, what was he thinking? He sits back, heart pounding in his chest.

“Jack, what is it?” 

Jack hands him the phone, hears Bitty say, “Oh, shit,” as he scrolls down.

It’s not like he hasn’t had to deal with this sort of thing before, but it seems so much bigger now. He’s going to hear from the Falconers’ PR people about this, and he’s dragged Bitty and Lardo and Shitty into it. He’d just wanted to keep his head down and play hockey, but that’s not how it works. And he knows that, has always known it, but the unfairness of it stings. He doesn’t know why he thought this trip was a good idea, why he thought he could do something as normal as go on a weekend trip with friends without it turning into a viral meme. 

He’s been so lucky to have the refuge of Samwell these last few years, where his friends have protected him and let him feel like a normal college student. But that’s all about to end. _Shit_.

“Jack.” Bitty takes his hand under the table and squeezes it.

Jack closes his eyes. Bitty doesn’t deserve this, but this is what he’s going to get if they do this. He’s going to get rumors, and blurry photos and speculation on Deadspin, and ugly tweets. And worse, he’ll have to face most of that alone, while Jack is god-knows-where playing hockey and trying to keep his head above water. 

Actually, no — what’s really worse is that Bitty doesn’t even know yet how bad it’s going to be. Any minute now, he’s going to figure it out, and he’s going to run the other direction, and Jack won’t blame him one bit. 

Jack is shaking.

“Shhhhh.” Bitty’s thumb strokes the back of his hand in a slow rhythm. He’s keeping his distance, only touching Jack’s hand, but his presence is reassuring, steadying. 

Jack takes a deep breath and opens his eyes.

“We’re fine,” Bitty says, his voice soft and warm. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” Jack repeats, willing himself to believe it. He’s not fine, though. He’ll never be fine. He turns to look at Bitty.

Bitty looks back, his expression somehow soft and fierce at the same time, and just like that, all the tension drains out of Jack’s chest. 

“It’s not like you’re doing lines off a supermodel’s bare ass,” Bitty says, smirking, and Jack surprises himself by laughing.

“I know.”

“You’re allowed to go out. You’re allowed to have a life, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Can I?” Bitty holds up the phone and Jack nods.

Bitty replies to Holster’s text for him, a quick _thanks for letting us know_. He waves Shitty and Lardo over, and when they arrive, he makes them all take a selfie together. He posts it to Twitter with the caption _In NYC celebrating a great season #samwellmenshockey #bffs #jzimmsnyc_. 

“Can’t let other people control the narrative,” Bitty says, and winks at Jack.

Jack has never loved him more than he does right now.

Shitty plants a sloppy kiss on Jack’s cheek. “Bro, it’s your last chance to dance with me, maybe ever.”

“No it isn’t,” Jack says, but lets Shitty pull him towards the dance floor anyway. He relaxes into it, laughing, and Shitty gets him to do some sort of line dance that he vaguely remembers from grade school. There are going to be pictures of this too, but suddenly, he doesn’t care. Bitty is right: he can have this, and it’s fine. It’s all fine. 

Bitty and Lardo have their heads together when Jack finally drags Shitty back toward the table again. 

Shitty chuckles. “Those two are a fuckin’ menace.”

“That’s why we love them.” He sees Shitty turn to look at him, but Jack can’t tear his gaze away from Bitty’s face.

“Time to bounce,” Lardo says when they stop in front of the table.

The cab they wave down is a minivan, so Bitty and Lardo climb into the back and Jack and Shitty sit in the middle row. When the driver says, “Where to?” Lardo replies with the address of the hotel.

Shitty and Jack turn back to look at her, and she affects an innocent smile. Bitty looks out the window, his cheeks flushed.

When they get to the hotel, Lardo and Bitty walk ahead, arm in arm, whispering furiously at each other.

“They’re up to something,” Jack says.

Shitty throws an arm around Jack’s shoulder and leans in, mouth warm against Jack’s ear. “Condoms are in the top drawer of the nightstand.”

“What?” Jack’s stomach twists.

“Just sayin’.” Shitty pats him on the shoulder and steps away again.

Jack huffs out a strangled laugh. 

Bitty and Lardo stop in front of the door to Jack and Shitty’s room. Jack pulls out his room key to open the door, but Lardo grabs Shitty’s arm and pulls him down to the door of the room she shares with Bitty. She flashes Jack a quick grin, then keys open the door and shoves Shitty through it. A moment later, Jack and Bitty are standing alone in the hallway. 

Jack turns an incredulous face to Bitty, who leans against the door and bites his lip through a smile. _Ah_. Jack swallows down a pulse of excitement and steps forward to key open the door. Bitty catches his hand and walks through, pulling Jack with him.

The click of the door closing is astonishingly loud in Jack’s ears. He leans back against it and watches as Bitty closes the gap between them. 

“We don’t have to,” Bitty says. “If you don’t want—”

Jack exhales. “I want. You have no idea how much I want.”

“Good, that’s… good.” Bitty’s smile widens and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

Jack cups his palm against Bitty’s jaw, runs a thumb across his cheekbone. Bitty stares back at him for a long moment, then goes up on his toes. Jack meets him halfway, presses his lips against Bitty’s. It’s been ages since he kissed someone like this: gentle and slow, a soft sweep of warm lips. At the first brush of tongue against his lower lip, Bitty whimpers and throws his arms around Jack’s neck. 

Bitty kisses like the tightly-wound bundle of sunshine he is, fiercely confident and oh, so good. Jack melts into small, precise movements of lips and tongue that send shivers of electricity through him. The weight of the door is solid behind him, and he slides down it just enough to even out their height, bracing with his feet on the floor. Bitty nearly devours him then, pushes his shoulders back against the door and just goes for it. They’re both panting when he finally pulls back enough to suck lightly at the tip of Jack’s tongue, and that’s when Jack’s knees finally give. He slides down the door until his ass hits the carpet, and pulls Bitty down with him. Bitty crawls over him, knees pressed on either side of Jack’s waist, and buries his face against Jack’s neck. One of Jack’s hands shifts up to the base of his skull, fingers trailing through the short hair there as he catches his breath.

“Jack, Jack, god,” Bitty says at last. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Jack’s arms slide down around Bitty’s shoulders. “Me too.” His lips are tingling. 

Bitty sighs against his skin. “Why did we wait so long?”

“Cause I’m an idiot, probably.”

Bitty sits up enough to look up at him, his expression fond. “I didn’t really know if you… _well_. I mean, I thought probably, but…”

“Definitely.” Jack tilts his head slightly. “Your eyeliner is smudged.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I let her talk me into that. I swore I’d never wear makeup again when I quit figure skating.”

“No, it looks good. You look…” He takes a shaky breath, releases it. “You pretty much drove me crazy all night. These pants, fuck.” He slides a hand down over Bitty’s ass, and marvels at the fact that he can just do that now.

Bitty’s smile is positively wicked. He climbs to his feet and tugs Jack’s hand. “You wanna take them off me?”

Jack lets himself be led to the closest bed, anticipation tickling pleasantly in his belly. He has imagined this moment for a long time, long enough that he’d always thought it would be a lot more terrifying than it actually is. Instead, it feels comfortable, easy. He toes off his shoes and waits for Bitty to do the same, then leans down to kiss him again.

Bitty hooks fingers in the waist of Jack’s jeans and pulls him down onto the bed. Jack falls forward, catching himself with hands on either side of Bitty’s shoulders an inch above Bitty’s chest. He smiles down at him, watching Bitty’s face while he nudges Bitty’s thighs apart with one knee. Bitty stares up at him with wide eyes, then runs his palms up the taut muscles in Jack’s arms. 

“Goodness, you’re so…” He closes his eyes and opens them again. “I’m not dreaming, am I? Cause I think I’ve dreamed this before.”

Jack presses his thigh forward into Bitty’s groin, and Bitty’s mouth falls open. “How did that dream end?”

“With me washing my sheets, fuck, _Jack_.” Bitty arches up, and _oh_ , his dick is hard against Jack’s thigh. Jack was already halfway there himself, but knowing Bitty’s hard for him is enough to push him the rest of the way, which… _merde._

He presses his forehead against Bitty’s shoulder and reaches down between them to adjust his dick to a more comfortable position. 

“I’ve got a better idea.” Bitty’s fingers unfasten the button and drag the zip down. He slides his palm over the bulge of Jack’s dick. Even though there’s still a layer of cloth between them, that touch is enough to make Jack’s mouth fall open. Bitty sighs almost dreamily. “Oh, I could get used to seeing that look on your face.” He drags his fingertips up the length of the shaft, lingering at the underside of the head. He rubs the pad of his thumb in a small circle and Jack’s eyes fall closed. 

He takes a shaky breath and pushes Bitty’s hand away. “This is going to be over way too fast if you keep doing that.”

Bitty grins and pulls him down into a kiss. It’s slow and dirty, and Jack marvels at the way they fit together so well already. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised, considering the way they’ve played together this year. Some of that transfers, in his experience. 

And that isn’t the best line of thought right now, actually.

He rolls onto his back and Bitty goes with him, straddles his hips and presses their erections together through layers of fabric. Bitty pushes the hem of Jack’s shirt up, sliding his palms against the skin beneath. Jack sits up enough to pull the shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor.

Bitty’s eyes are comically wide as he stares down at Jack’s bare chest. “Oh, goodness, I…”

“You’ve seen it before.” Jack can’t help grinning at him.

Bitty’s teeth drag over his lower lip. “Not when I knew I could look all I wanted.”

Jack lies back and lets him look for several long seconds before reaching forward to tug at Bitty’s shirt. Bitty swallows hard before pulling it up and off, dropping it to the floor. He looks embarrassed, and Jack isn’t exactly sure why. Bitty is small, sure, but he’s in amazing shape. He works out as hard as anyone on the team, and the compact lines of his body are incredible. His abs are actually insane, now that Jack has a chance to look. He’s built more like a dancer than a hockey player. 

Jack has a sudden flash of memory, of going to the ballet with his mother when he was thirteen and getting an erection while watching the scantily-clad male lead perform an extremely athletic solo. He’d been grateful for the jacket in his lap, but the experience had been eye-opening all the same. 

Well, then. There’s a teenage fantasy he’d forgotten about. 

He sits up and pulls Bitty against him, almost crushing their mouths together. Bitty whimpers and pushes him onto his back again, and oh, he’s so warm and hard and… _fuck_. Jack’s hands slide down his back, soft warm skin over hard muscle, and down to wriggle just inside the waistband of his pants. They’re tight enough that he doesn’t get very far, but Bitty presses his ass back against Jack’s fingers, and Jack wants… oh, he _wants_. 

He has no idea how much experience Bitty has with any of this — probably more than Jack had expected, considering the sort of confident ease with which he’s moving right now — but Jack suddenly wants to do things he hasn’t done before, things he was always afraid to ask for from Kent or the handful of hookups he’s had since. The idea that he could have that now makes him slightly giddy. 

“You should take these off,” he whispers, and swallows Bitty’s reply. Bitty lifts his hips and Jack pushes his pants down to his thighs, underwear and all. It’s just enough to allow him to really get his hands on Bitty’s ass. He arches his own hips up and their erections slide against each other, and _oh_ , that’s— 

There is a soft sound next to the bed. Jack catches movement out of the corner of his eye and turns — to gape at Lardo, who is opening the drawer of the nightstand. She’s completely naked.

He hears Bitty gasp next to his ear as he turns his head too.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lardo says, not looking at them. “Pretend I’m not here. Definitely didn’t get a good look at Bitty’s ass just now or anything.”

Bitty makes a sound like a squeak, but otherwise doesn’t move. 

She reaches into the drawer and pulls out a strip of condom packets. She pauses, giving the two of them a speculative glance, then tears the strip in half. She drops one half onto the nightstand and takes the other half with her. She winks at them before she dashes back to the other room. They both turn to watch her disappear through the door. There is a soft _click_ as the lock is turned on the other side.

Bitty bursts into giggles that quickly melt into an embarrassed groan. He presses his forehead against Jack’s shoulder. “Awkward much?”

Jack smooths his palm up the length of Bitty’s spine. “I guess that’s one less question to ask them over breakfast.”

“I guess. Lord.”

Jack can’t resist the urge to chirp him. “So now you’ve seen a naked woman.”

Bitty laughs and pushes up on his elbows. “I used to be a figure skater, remember? I’ve seen plenty of naked women.”

“Seriously?”

Bitty smirks. “I bet I know more about emergency tampon removal than any _bro_ on this team.”

Jack can only gape at him. 

“A topic for another time, clearly.” He stretches out on top of Jack again, and kisses him softly. “Where were we?”

Jack smooths his hands over Bitty’s ass and squeezes. “About here, I think.” He arches his hips up. Bitty’s moan is muffled against his tongue, and the kiss goes from languid to frantic in the space of a few seconds.

“These off, now.” Bitty’s fingers tug at the open fly of Jack’s jeans. They reluctantly move apart long enough to wriggle out of pants and underwear. Bitty rolls to the side to kick his pants off, and Jack gets his first good look at him naked and hard. 

_Oh god._

Jack lunges forward, pinning Bitty’s hips to the bed. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the soft skin just above his hipbone.

“Oh, fuck,” Bitty gasps.

Jack hadn’t thought any further ahead than getting Bitty naked, but now he knows exactly what he wants to do. He nuzzles the blond curls at the base of Bitty’s dick, inhaling before tracing the tip of his tongue up the length. 

“Jack, Jack, oh god…” Bitty pets Jack’s hair tentatively.

“This okay?” The raspiness of his own voice is unexpected. He shifts into a better position between Bitty’s thighs.

Bitty huffs out a laugh. “I can’t believe you’re even asking me that. Oh my god, just… yes.” 

Bitty’s fingers tighten in his hair and a spark fires somewhere in Jack’s belly. He groans and brushes his lips over the wet tip of Bitty’s erection. Bitty makes a soft sound of surprise and slides his fingers up through Jack’s hair to the crown of his skull. Jack’s mouth hovers, exhaling warm air against sensitive skin, not quite touching. He isn’t sure for a moment if Bitty is going to get what he’s silently asking for, but then Bitty’s breath shudders and he pushes down, gently. Jack goes, lips sliding down the shaft until the head bumps his soft palate. He goes further, taking him all the way in before sliding back up again, tongue wriggling against soft-hot skin. 

It’s been a while since he last did this, and he’d forgotten how much he likes it. He sucks lightly around the head and then moves down again, more smoothly this time. Both of Bitty’s hands are in his hair now, not really pushing, just holding, petting. Jack repeats the movement over and over, long slow strokes, increasing the pressure of his tongue each time. Bitty’s knees come up and fall open, and Jack imagines those thighs around his waist. 

“Oh god oh god oh god, Jack—” Bitty’s fingers tighten in his hair, clearly intended to be a warning, and Jack is momentarily unsure what to do. He’d like to see Bitty come, to watch his face while his dick pulses in Jack’s hand, but he’d also like to feel Bitty come in his mouth. Bitty arches up against him, gasping, and the decision becomes moot; Jack slides his lips down and swallows, twice, eyes closed, fingers digging into Bitty’s hips. It’s incredible, almost dizzying to hear the small, broken sounds he makes when he comes, back arched and toes pressing into Jack’s sides. When he relaxes back against the bed, Jack stills his tongue, keeping his mouth slack until Bitty pushes at his forehead.

Jack’s so hard he’s aching. He kisses the inside of Bitty’s thigh, willing his body to wind down a bit. At this rate, he’ll come the moment Bitty touches him.

“Unnnhhh,” Bitty manages at last. His hands are over his face. 

“Was that okay?”

Bitty laughs and drops his hands, then pushes up on his elbows to grin at Jack. “That was amazing and you know it.”

Jack kisses the crease of his thigh, then opens his mouth to suck on the soft skin there.

“No, no,” Bitty says, scooting away from him. “That is not a place I want a hickey, lord.”

Jack props his hand on his chin and smiles up at him. “Where would you like one, then?”

Bitty’s smile twists into something a little more wicked. He pokes Jack’s shoulder with his toe. “Come here, you.”

Jack feels almost predatory as he rises up on his hands and knees and slowly crawls forward. “Where do you want me?”

Bitty’s mouth falls open as Jack crawls over him. He brackets Bitty’s shoulders with his hands and pushes Bitty’s thighs apart with his knees, and stares down at him with all the heat he feels.

“Oh goodness, you…” Bitty looks up at him, face flushed and eyes wide. “You are so fucking hot, I don’t even—” 

Jack kisses him and presses the length of his erection into Bitty’s groin. Bitty wraps his legs around him, shifting up against him, and Jack has to stop moving for a moment.

“Fuck,” he groans against Bitty’s neck.

“So do you want to, uh…” Bitty trails off and Jack looks up at him.

“Want to what?”

Bitty bites his lip. “You can fuck me. If you want.”

“Have…” Jack has to pause to form a coherent sentence. “Have you done that before?”

“Not…” Bitty’s face flushes. “With a person. I mean… fingers, yeah, and… other things, but not like… that.”

Jack inhales, exhales again. When he thinks about that — and god help him, he’s definitely thought about it — he imagines taking his time, opening Bitty up with his mouth and his fingers, taking it slow and making it good, so good. He wants to make him come that way, wants to feel Bitty shatter from the inside. The idea of it is enough to send a pulse through his groin, and _oh god_. 

“Not… I guess I’m…” He groans, buries his face in Bitty’s neck. “I’m so close I don’t think I can wait that long.” 

“What do you want?”

“Anything, fuck, just…”

“Okay,” Bitty says, and kisses him softly. “Here, roll over and I’ll — yeah.” Jack shifts onto his back and Bitty moves down to push his thighs apart.

Jack pushes up on his elbows to watch, but the moment Bitty’s lips brush against the head of his cock, he falls back on the mattress. He’ll watch next time; right now it’s too much. 

Bitty slides the foreskin up and down a few times, probably marveling at that difference between them, and then his hand disappears. Jack nearly whimpers at the loss of contact, but a few seconds later there is a wet fingertip circling his asshole. It’s insane that such a small movement, a gentle inward swirl on sensitive skin, can feel like _so much_. He makes a embarrassingly needy sound.

“Can I?” Bitty asks, his voice soft.

“Yes, _yes_.”

That finger presses into him at the same time Bitty swallows him down, and _oh god_ , it’s amazing. It’s all he can do to hang on, not to come on the spot. He just wants to feel this a little longer, the slide of that finger inside him making his entire body light up; twisting out when Bitty’s mouth is sliding up, fingertip just stretching him open while he sucks at the head; pressing back in again when Bitty goes down, brushing up just so, enough to make Jack shudder and whine. Everything narrows down to those two points of contact; he’s underwater now, limbs heavy and useless. 

He manages to last a few more seconds and then he’s coming, heat moving up and through him in waves. He’s shaking when he finishes, and realizes he didn’t even manage a warning.

“Sorry, sorry.”

Bitty laughs and settles warm against his side. “Are you seriously apologizing right now?”

“No. Yes.” Jack takes a shuddering breath and looks up at him. Bitty leans down to kiss him, and Jack can taste his own come. “You swallowed.”

“So did you.”

“Yeah.” He pulls Bitty down against him. “I just… You’re really good at that.”

“You sound surprised.” Bitty’s tone is indignant, but he’s smiling.

“I’m not, I’m… shutting up now.” Jack kisses Bitty’s temple and closes his eyes. 

Bitty chuckles. “I’ll be right back.”

Jack hears the toilet flush and water running, and then Bitty’s weight dips the mattress beside him. Bitty snuggles into Jack’s shoulder, one arm draped across his chest and a foot hooked over his shin. Jack can feel his breath against his skin, warm and even. 

“This okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be a cuddler.”

Jack exhales, hums a little from the sheer pleasure of having Bitty wrapped around him like this. It’s warm, decadent, amazing. Lips press against his shoulder once, twice, and Jack feels a smile against his skin. “What?”

“I just realized I get to wake up next to you.”

Jack turns toward him, kisses him softly. Bitty shifts up higher on the bed and they stay like that for a long time, sharing slow, leisurely kisses and sliding hands over each other’s skin. It’s different than frantic making out or foreplay with an endgame of orgasm; it’s breathing and touching and closeness, a sort of easy intimacy he’s not sure he’s ever felt before.

“Mmm,” Bitty says at last, and presses his face into Jack’s neck. “Sleepy.”

“Turn.” Jack nudges him over and spoons behind him, draping himself over Bitty’s back. He presses one more kiss to the top of Bitty’s head and drifts to sleep.

***

The bed is empty when Jack wakes up, but still warm. He blinks, opens his eyes, and yawns.

Ugh — he forgot to brush his teeth last night.

The shower is running and he can hear a soft, muffled tune being sung. He stretches, smiles up at the ceiling, feeling torn between lying here and waiting for Bitty to come back and going to the shower to join him. He runs the tip of his tongue over his teeth and, yeah: he definitely needs to do something about that before Bitty comes anywhere near him.

He opens the bathroom door and slips inside, rummaging through his toiletry bag for his toothbrush. Shitty’s bag had been sitting on the other side of the counter, but now there’s an unfamiliar one in its place. Jack wonders briefly when that switch was made.

He has a mouthful of toothpaste when he hears the shower curtain rustle behind him. 

“Good morning.”

Jack turns and leans back against the counter, still brushing. Bitty’s gaze slides all the way down his naked body and back up again.

“You planning to join me in here?”

Jack turns and bends over to spit in the sink, and hears a slight intake of breath. The mirror is too fogged to see Bitty’s reflection, but Jack has a pretty good idea what he’s looking at. “Why? Do you think I’m dirty?”

Bitty laughs and pulls the curtain closed again. Jack rinses his mouth out and scratches at his cheek. He needs to shave, but that can wait until later. He definitely has to piss first, though. He warns Bitty before he flushes the toilet, just in case, then pulls the curtain back and steps into the tub. 

Bitty turns to look at him over his shoulder. “Hey.”

“Morning.” Jack plants a soft kiss behind his ear and slides his hands over the warm, wet skin on Bitty’s shoulders, down his arms and across the smooth plane of his belly. Bitty’s dick is already hard when Jack wraps wet fingers around it.

“Oh, I could get used to this,” Bitty says, his head falling back on Jack’s shoulder.

“You’d better.” Jack sucks a spot on his neck and strokes slowly, fingers twisting at the head before sliding back down the shaft again.

Bitty leans against him for a full minute, making soft sounds in his throat, then turns around in Jack’s arms and kisses him. It’s sloppier and more frantic than the night before, as if Bitty is so turned on that he’s already on the edge of losing control. Jack reaches between them with the intention of pressing both their dicks together, but their height difference proves to be an obstacle. 

Bitty bursts out laughing. “Goodness, it’s like a Great Dane humping a Chihuahua.”

Jack groans and slides past him to get under the spray. “I’m washing my hair.” 

“Honey,” Bitty says, and his hands smooth down Jack’s back. He presses a kiss between Jack’s shoulder blades, and then his erection nudges up into the space between Jack’s thighs, right behind his balls. The rush of arousal hits Jack so fast he has to put both hands on the tile in front of him.

“Fuck, Bitty…”

Bitty presses his forehead into Jack’s shoulder as his hands slide down to Jack’s hips. His palms smooth tentatively against Jack’s ass, and Jack breathes hard and pushes back into the touch. He feels Bitty’s breath against his skin, irregular and hot, then a quick brush of lips against his spine before Bitty’s thumbs slide inward and pry the cheeks apart enough to brush the head of his cock against Jack’s hole. Jack’s mouth falls open and he shudders, and cants his hips back enough to feel pressure. There’s not much further they can go without lube and a condom, but the very idea is making his knees buckle. He hasn’t done that in a long time, and he suddenly wants very much to do it again.

He reaches behind and takes Bitty’s right hand, tugs it around and puts it on his cock. 

“Oh my,” Bitty says, and plasters himself against Jack’s back. He strokes slowly once, twice, and then speeds up, his hand moving fast. Jack’s head falls forward and water streams down into his eyes. It’s so good, and it isn’t going to take long. 

“Tighter,” he says, and Bitty does it, his forehead still pressed against Jack’s shoulder. Jack’s feet slide a little and he plants them further apart to steady himself. Bitty’s dick slides between his thighs again, pressing up into sensitive skin, Bitty’s hips shifting against his ass. Jack squeezes his eyes shut and cries out, pulsing over Bitty’s fingers. It’s quick and intense, and when it’s over he blinks water out of his eyes, astonished. That took a minute at the most.

He turns around and sinks to his knees, presses his forehead against Bitty’s stomach. His breath is still coming in sharp huffs, so he stays there for a long moment before ducking his head to take Bitty’s dick into his mouth. 

“God, Jack,” Bitty whispers, and tangles his fingers into Jack’s wet hair. “You’re gonna drown down there.” He takes a step back and Jack moves with him, out from under the worst of the spray. 

Jack’s knees are going to hurt like hell after this, but right now he doesn’t care. The spray pounds down on his back and his mouth is full of Bitty’s dick, and his hands are on that gorgeous ass and… 

He wants something more.

He pulls off and looks up at Bitty. “Turn around.”

Bitty stares at him for a full second before he turns. Jack leans forward to plant a kiss at the base of his spine, then gently bites the curve of his ass.

Bitty yelps and looks over his shoulder at him. “That tickles!”

“Does it?” He bites again on the other side, a little less gently this time.

“Jack!” 

Bitty’s ass is wiggling deliciously now. Jack presses his fingertips into his hips to hold him still, then slides his thumbs down the cleft. Bitty stops moving altogether. 

“Put your hands on the wall.” 

Bitty does it, the movement forcing him to bend forward slightly, which is exactly what Jack wanted. He pushes at Bitty’s ankles until his stance is as wide as it can go in the tub. Jack spreads the cheeks of his ass apart and trails the tip of his tongue from the top of the cleft down, down until he can trace a light circle around the rim of his hole. Bitty makes a sound of surprise that melts into a moan, and Jack grins. 

He takes his time, teasing and flicking lightly over sensitive skin, not quite where he knows Bitty desperately wants it until Bitty makes a choked sound and pushes his ass back against Jack’s face. Jack presses in with the pointed tip of his tongue, licks up and out, then pushes in again, over and over until he’s fucking his hole with little movements. 

“Oh god oh god,” Bitty whines.

“Touch yourself,” Jack tells him. 

Bitty whimpers and shifts to brace himself on one arm. His body moves slightly as he starts to jerk himself off.

Jack alternates between light flicks of his tongue and broad, flat strokes until Bitty’s rhythm becomes erratic, his breathing audible even over the sound of the shower. He presses his tongue into him again and again, and Bitty comes, howling. Jack holds his hips still and keeps his tongue on him until Bitty slumps to the tub floor.

Jack strokes his back and grins, then stands to wash his hair. When he opens his eyes, Bitty is sitting on the tub floor, staring up at him with flushed cheeks.

Jack can’t help smirking at him. “Well?”

Bitty laughs and presses his face into his knees. 

Jack leans his head back for one more rinse, then steps out of the shower. He’s almost completely dried off before Bitty turns the water off and pulls the curtain back. His gaze rakes over Jack in a way Jack imagines he’s always wanted to do, the way he couldn’t really do in the locker room. Jack’s spent years keeping his eyes focused on his stall and not looking, so that’s a feeling he knows well. But Bitty’s been out to the team for a while now, and Jack knows that makes it different. 

Jack towels off his hair and tries not to look like he’s posing. (He’s totally posing.) “You gonna say anything?”

Bitty manages a wry smile. “I’m gonna have stubbleburn in a really awkward place.”

Jack laughs and runs a hand over his chin. “Sorry.”

“Good lord, do not apologize. That was…” Bitty presses his hands to his still-flushed cheeks. “Ummm.”

“Are you really that embarrassed?”

“You stuck your tongue up my ass!” Bitty laughs and shakes his head, blushing so hard Jack can’t bring himself to chirp him. “I didn’t know that was a thing people really did.”

Jack reaches out to ruffle his wet hair. “But you liked it.”

“Obviously.” Bitty looks up at him shyly, and grins.

***

Bitty’s suitcase is just inside the door. Jack’s pretty sure it wasn’t there before, and that Shitty’s now-missing bag was over by the window last time he looked. Bitty seems unsurprised, though, so Jack doesn’t question it. Bitty digs through his bag and pulls out jeans and a t-shirt. 

Jack is still naked, and not really interested in getting dressed just yet. He leans back on his elbows on the bed. “What do you want to do today?”

Bitty steps into navy blue briefs and tugs them up. “When do we have to be out of the room?”

“We have late checkout, I think. Three, maybe?”

Bitty turns to look at him, and Jack can see the moment heat sparks in his eyes. “You look comfortable.”

“Yeah, but I’m lonely.” 

Bitty smiles and shakes his head a little, looking somewhere being flustered and amazed. He drops his clothes on the foot of the bed and crawls up to settle on Jack’s chest, knees on either side of Jack’s hips. “Better?”

“Yes.” Jack watches his face, soaking up the obvious affection he sees there. 

Bitty nuzzles under Jack’s jaw, warm breath ghosting over a sensitive spot that Bitty hasn’t discovered yet. “You decided not to shave?”

“Want me to?”

“No, I like it.” A soft kiss just to the left of where Jack wants it. “I jerked off so many times during playoffs, thinking about your beard.” Another kiss, and Jack squirms, tilting into it. “And what it would feel like between my thighs.” He presses his open mouth against Jack’s skin, the tip of his tongue drawing a curve in exactly the right spot. 

Jack gasps and slides a hand around the back of Bitty’s head. His hair is damp and cool against Jack’s fingers, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from the rest of his body. Bitty sucks lightly against Jack’s neck, and Jack is suddenly, ridiculously hard. It’s only been twenty minutes since the last time.

Bitty chuckles and puts a hand on Jack’s jaw to hold him still, apparently now working on the hickey in earnest.

Jack’s phone buzzes a text alert from the nightstand. He plans to ignore it, but it buzzes again ten seconds later.

Bitty lifts his head enough to glance at the display. “Shitty.” 

Jack groans and reaches over to pick it up. Whatever sightseeing adventures Shitty has in mind, Jack has negative interest. He wants to stay right here in this bed and make out with Bitty until they have to drag him back to Samwell. 

_Champagne brunch downstairs, right now. Take a break. Eat some protein._

_Lardo says semen is only like 0.5% RDA of protein. FYI._

Jack snorts and shows the phone to Bitty, whose eyes light up immediately. 

“Oh, I love brunch!”

Of course he does. Jack glances at the time on his phone: it’s almost 11:00 now. He considers pouting, suggesting they order room service instead, but Bitty’s smile is so sweet and hopeful that he melts a little. 

“Then let’s get dressed.” 

Bitty grins and kisses him, then jumps up. He frets a little about what to wear and finally settles on the clothes he wore to the theatre the day before (after subjecting them to some rigorous sniff-testing). Jack sits up on the bed and watches him, his chest suddenly light. Making Bitty happy is going to be one of his new favorite things. He thinks about the surprise he has planned for Bitty in a couple of weeks and has to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning. 

Shitty and Lardo are at least one trip to the buffet and a glass of champagne ahead of them. Jack and Bitty join them long enough to order drinks and then head off to fill their own plates. 

“Oh my lord,” Bitty says, stopping before an expansive display of desserts. There are dozens of types of pastries, towering layer cakes, parfaits, profiteroles, a rainbow of macarons, and a large chocolate fountain. 

Jack puts a hand on the back of his neck and steers him the other direction. “Not yet.”

“But—” 

“Eat something with actual nutritional value first.” He leans in enough to whisper in Bitty’s ear. “You’re no good to me in a sugar coma.”

“I dunno,” Bitty replies, leaning back against him. “I could just lie there with my ankles by my ears and let you do your thing.”

Jack snickers. “Very romantic, Bits. Eat something else.”

And there is so much else: stations where people in chef whites are making eggs to order, along with sweet and savory crepes and Belgian waffles. There is a carvery station with a ridiculous amount of meat on display, an entire wall devoted to Asian specialties, another hot table with casseroles and vegetable dishes, and a cold station with a giant pile of boiled shrimp, oysters, and lobster tails. Jack’s been to brunches like this before with his parents more times than he can count, but from the look on Bitty’s face, it’s clear he’s overwhelmed.

They settle at the table just as a server comes by to refill everyone’s champagne glasses. Jack raises his eyebrows: they’re pouring _Veuve_ , so this is going to be a pricey meal. He was planning to pick up the check for the four of them anyway, but now he’s going to have to be extra sneaky about it.

He picks up his glass and catches Shitty’s eye across the table. “You two have a nice evening?”

Shitty smirks at him and glances at Lardo, who’s grinning into her soup. “Are you seriously asking for deets, bro?”

Jack laughs. “Not really, no.”

“Too bad.” Shitty’s expression shifts in a familiar way, and Jack braces himself for some serious chirping. “Cause I want some. Whatever you two were doing in the shower this morning sounded like fun.” 

Bitty makes a sound like a squeak and goes as red as Jack has ever seen him. He buries his face in his hands and groans. 

“That filthy, huh?” Shitty looks mock-thoughtful, stroking his mustache. “That narrows it down a bit.”

“Oh my god, shut _up_.” Bitty sinks down in his chair like he’s going to disappear under the table. Jack reaches over to ruffle his hair, laughing. His embarrassment is endearing. 

Lardo pokes Shitty in the side with her finger. “Bro. Leave Bits alone.” 

Shitty looks at her and his expression softens almost instantly. She raises her eyebrows and he gives her an innocent look. They proceed to have a minute-long conversation with facial expressions alone. Jack’s chest fills with a ridiculous amount of warmth for them.

He squeezes Bitty’s thigh under the table, and Bitty finally drops his hands to look up at him. He’s still flushed, but he’s radiant, clearly happy. He takes Jack’s hand and intertwines their fingers, squeezes. Lardo changes the subject to the crepe she’s eating, and Bitty reaches across the table for a bite. Within a few minutes, they think they’ve worked out the ingredients in the filling, and Bitty promises to try to recreate it when they get home.

“You make crepes?” Jack asks. His mom made crepes on Sunday mornings when he was a kid, with nutella and whipped cream. Not that he lets himself eat that sort of thing anymore, but now he can’t help imagining a lazy Sunday morning in a kitchen somewhere, Bitty making crepes for him.

Bitty gives him an incredulous look. “Please. I mastered crepes when I was ten years old.”

“Then why haven’t you ever made them at the Haus?”

“If I’d known you liked them, I’d’ve made them every morning.” His expression is so sincere that Jack feels something melt inside him. 

“Ugh, you two are disgusting,” Lardo says, pushing her chair back. “Time for dessert. Bits, you coming?”

“Absolutely.” Bitty smirks at Jack, as if challenging him to say something, but Jack just smiles. His eyes follow as Bitty and Lardo wind their way through the crowd.

“I’m proud of you two,” Shitty says after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“But dude, dial it down a notch. I legit thought you were gonna get down on one knee a minute ago.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t see that lovesick nonverbal shit you two had going on.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet. I gotta warm Lardo up to it.” He grins and looks over his shoulder, but Bitty and Lardo aren’t visible. “But seriously, bro. It was about fuckin’ time you two got your shit together.”

“I know.” Jack flushes, looks down into his champagne glass. He finds he doesn’t regret the timing, though. If anything had happened before the season was over, it would have been complicated. Jack knows how he gets during playoffs, when all he can think about is hockey. It’s better like this. They have a little time to figure it out before he goes to Providence, at least. There’s only one more week of classes and his thesis is done, so he finally has the time to be a decent… boyfriend. 

He blinks.

“Earth to Jack,” Shitty says, and Jack looks up.

“Sorry. I’m just… I’m happy for you too. You and Lardo.”

“Yeah. She’s…” To Jack’s amazement, Shitty’s cheeks go pink. He smiles and swirls the dregs of champagne in his glass. “Fuck, man. This is it for me, I think.”

Wow. “Does she know?”

Shitty drains the glass and sits back. “I don’t know. We haven’t exactly done much talking yet.”

Jack nods, a little flutter rising in his belly. He knows he needs to talk to Bitty about all of this, but he hasn’t wanted to break the spell. This weekend has been a fantasy of sorts, far removed from his reality of graduating college and heading to the NHL.

Shitty leans over the table, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “So… are there any condoms left?”

Jack’s eyes widen. “Yeah man, all the ones Lardo didn’t take last night. Did you seriously already—”

“Yes.” 

“She took half of them. How are you even walking this morning?”

The server comes by to refill their glasses and they both sit back. 

“I just need one,” Shitty says, and then hesitates. “Two, actually, if that’s okay.”

“You can have them all.” Shitty’s eyebrows go up, and Jack shrugs. “No lube, so.”

Shitty winces. “Oh, shit, man. I didn’t even think about that. Sorry.”

“Shut up. It’s all right.” 

Shitty’s eyes widen. “What the hell were you doing in the shower if you weren’t—”

Lardo and Bitty return at that moment, plates piled high with pastries, and Jack just smirks at Shitty across the table. 

It’s almost one o’clock by the time they all stagger back to their rooms, woozy and full. Jack had quietly paid the check, and none of the others had noticed until the server slipped him a credit card receipt to sign. It had been awkward for ten seconds before Shitty had chirped him about the ridiculous amount of money he was about to be paid to play _a fucking game, man_ , and Jack had laughed. The tension had faded, and from there he’d endured promises to pay him back in froyo, pie, and backrubs. (Shitty’s offer of sexual favors had been vetoed by Bitty and Lardo simultaneously.)

Once back in the room, Bitty stretches out on the other, undisturbed bed, sighing happily. Jack makes a quick trip to the bathroom, then curls up next to him. 

“I’d planned to get you naked,” he says into Bitty’s hair, “but right now I just want to sleep.”

“We could sleep naked.”

“Even better. I’ll set an alarm.”

A few minutes later, they’re pressed skin-to-skin under the covers, lazily making out. It’s comfortable and easy, and as much as Jack doesn’t want to face reality yet, it feels like a good moment.

“So we should probably talk,” he says at last.

Bitty presses his forehead against Jack’s chest. “Okay.” 

Jack takes a deep breath. “I like you a lot, and this is something I want with you.” He hesitates a moment too long, and Bitty stiffens against him.

“But.”

“But I’m not ready to come out. That’s not… I mean, I’ve been working towards this my whole life. You see how they talk about me on ESPN already. They’re waiting for me to do something else to make news, and I… I want to be judged for how I play. At least until I’ve proved I deserve to be there.”

Bitty nods his head, exhales slowly against Jack’s skin. “I understand.”

Jack slides an arm around him. “You do?”

“I mean… I’m not even out to my parents. I can’t imagine people on ESPN talking about who I’m dating like that.”

Jack winces, because that’s exactly what will happen if they do this, if they get found out. Bitty won’t be left alone any more than Jack will.

“I kinda figured it might be just for the weekend.” Bitty’s voice sounds strained now. “I’d be lying if I said I’m happy about that, but…” Bitty looks up at him, and his big brown eyes are as sad as Jack has ever seen them. “I’d rather have this than nothing.”

Jack blinks at him. “Wait, do you think — No, I’m not saying we shouldn’t, not at all.”

“You’re not?” Bitty pushes up on one elbow, his expression still cautious. “Okay, what are you saying?”

“It would have to be a secret. Only our closest friends could know. And our parents — well, I’d tell my parents, I don’t know about you.”

“You want—” Bitty stares at him in disbelief. “You want to date me?”

“Yes, of course.” Jack frowns. “Did you think we were just hooking up?”

“I didn’t until a minute ago.” Bitty swats at his shoulder, relief apparent on his face. “Goodness, Jack — you scared me!”

“Sorry.” 

“You can’t just give a boy everything he’s ever wanted and then take it away again.” He ducks his head slightly, as if he hadn’t meant to reveal quite so much.

“I’m not, I promise.” Jack takes his hand, intertwines their fingers. “But you need to understand that it’s not going to be easy. We’ll have to sneak around, pretend to be just friends. Lie to people.”

“Like that’s so completely different from the way I’ve lived since puberty.” 

His tone is surprisingly bitter. Jack suddenly remembers that Bitty hadn’t ever come out to anyone until halfway through his frog year at Samwell. Jack can’t imagine that — he came out to his mother when he was fifteen and his father not long after. He’s pretty firmly in the closet, sure, but he knows how close Bitty is to his mom. The idea that Bitty doesn’t even feel like he can tell her is just… Jack feels a stab of pain at the thought.

“I know it’s a lot to ask.” Jack sighs, closes his eyes, and opens them again to see Bitty watching him thoughtfully. “I’m going to be a terrible boyfriend. I’ll be gone for weeks at a time and when I’m around I’ll be stressed and exhausted, and still almost an hour away. If we see each other every few weeks during the season, we’ll be lucky. And you know what I’m like in hockey mode, how I get.” He reaches up to brush his fingers over Bitty’s cheek. 

Bitty’s smile is sweet and earnest and everything Jack does not deserve. “We’ll figure it out, okay?” He leans down to kiss Jack again, and Jack feels something uncoil in his chest.

“Okay,” he says when Bitty pulls away. “Okay.”

“We’ll get good at Skype sex.”

“Yeah?” Jack is suddenly very glad he negotiated for a single on the road. 

“Yeah.” Bitty smiles and kisses him again, but this time it’s slow and filthy. Heat pools in Jack’s belly and he moans into Bitty’s mouth. Bitty moves to straddle his hips, lines his cock up against Jack’s. When he shifts his hips forward, Jack’s eyes fly open.

“Oh, fuck, do that again.”

Bitty moves against him slowly, mouth open against Jack’s, his tongue doing devastating things. Jack’s hands slide down his back and under the curve of his ass. He arches up into Bitty, gasping. They find a rhythm, moving together, warmer and soon slick with sweat. Jack finally needs more, so he rolls them over, taking the covers with them. Bitty laughs, then groans as Jack reaches a hand between them and squeezes both their cocks together.

“Oh my god,” Bitty breathes, his head falling back. 

Jack kisses him sloppily and Bitty wraps his legs around Jack’s back, urging him on. Jack braces himself above Bitty with an elbow on the mattress, then licks his hand and starts stroking them both again. Bitty pulls him back into a kiss, all finesse abandoned now. It’s sloppy and wet, and it feels incredible.

“Jack, Jack, _Jack_.” Bitty’s eyes are squeezed shut now, and his body tenses beneath Jack.

“That’s it,” Jack whispers, and shifts his strokes to focus on Bitty. “You’re so fucking gorgeous right now, god.”

“I—” Whatever Bitty was going to say morphs into a series of guttural _oh_ s. He spills over Jack’s hand, arching up against him. It’s unbearably hot, even more so when Bitty’s orgasm finally fades and he sinks back into the mattress, boneless. He looks dazed when he opens his eyes.

Jack’s hand is slick now, and he uses that to finish himself off, his hand a blur. He shifts his position at the last moment and stripes Bitty’s chest with come. He collapses to Bitty’s side, hand still on his cock, shuddering through the aftershocks. He presses his forehead against Bitty’s hair and groans.

Bitty hums happily and reaches a hand up to tangle in Jack’s hair. “Lord, I’m a mess.”

Jack opens his eyes and laughs. He looks down at Bitty and… _oh_. “Don’t move.” 

He gets up, crosses the room to pluck his camera from where it was charging by the TV, and switches it on. He settles on the bed over Bitty, the shot he wants already forming in his mind. When he looks through the viewfinder, Bitty is staring up at him with a stunned expression.

“Are you crazy? What if someone sees that?”

“They won’t. Trust me, just… relax.” 

He takes a few test shots, looks at the preview display, and then shifts his position to get better light. Bitty stares up at him a moment longer, but then seems to decide to go with it. He relaxes and lets Jack move his arm into a different position. Jack takes a few dozen shots, then scrolls through them until he finds one he likes: Bitty smiling sleepily up at him, his chest striped with come, his softening dick curved against his thigh. The light is actually perfect, somehow, making Bitty look like he’s glowing. He bites his lip and hands the camera over.

Bitty stares at it for a long moment. 

Jack settles down next to him and looks up at the screen. “My boyfriend is fucking hot, eh?”

Bitty grins. “Actually, I kinda am. My turn.” He reaches for his phone and pulls Jack down next to him again. “I at least get a selfie out of this.”

Jack laughs, but he snuggles in and smiles up at the screen. Bitty snaps the selfie.

“You’re not going to—” 

Bitty snorts. “Are you kidding? That one is just for me. No one else gets to see your face like that.”

“Like what?”

Bitty turns his head and kisses the skin just in front of Jack’s ear. “Like I’ve made you come three times in twelve hours.”

He sits up and puts his phone back on the nightstand, then plucks a tissue from the box there and cleans himself off.

“Give me half an hour. We can make it four.” Jack kisses his shoulder and tugs him back down again. They lazily make out for a few minutes before Bitty yawns against Jack’s lips. Jack snickers. “Fine, be that way.”

“I thought orgasms were s’posed to knock guys out.” Bitty turns onto his side and presses his back against Jack’s chest. 

“Definitely true for you.” Jack curls an arm around Bitty and sighs into the back of his neck. They have to get up in an hour, but for now, Jack’s going to enjoy it. 

Bitty’s breathing even out and shallows, and Jack closes his eyes. He’s almost asleep himself when he hears a gentle knock at the door separating the rooms. Shitty’s head pops through, and Jack waves at him. Shitty comes in and crosses to the nightstand to pick up the condoms. Jack counts himself lucky that Shitty still has pants on.

“Sorry, man.” Shitty picks up the strip of condoms, then looks down at Bitty and smiles. “Aw, well-fucked looks really good on Bits.”

Jack laughs. “Go away, Shits. Lardo wants to sit on your dick.”

“Naw, man, this is for the strap-on.” 

Jack gapes at him, and Shitty smirks.

“Joking, joking! She didn’t even bring it.” He smirks and heads back to the other room, closing the door behind him. 

Jack laughs into his pillow and closes his eyes.

***

The drive home is quiet. Shitty and Lardo sit up front, playing a license plate game off and on, but mostly sitting quietly and feeding each other potato chips. Jack and Bitty sit close together in the back seat. Jack reads and Bitty works on a presentation on his laptop. Jack hadn’t even known he’d brought the laptop this weekend, but even more astonishing is that Bitty’s presentation is _tomorrow_ , and this is the time he’d allotted himself to work on it. Jack chirps him about it, but Bitty just says something about how much Jack seemed to enjoy all the _not_ -studying they did that weekend and keeps working.

Two hours into the drive, Bitty closes the laptop, apparently as finished as he’s going to be. He puts earbuds in, pulls up the music app on his phone, then stretches out in the back seat with his head in Jack’s lap. Jack smiles and pets his hair, brushes his fingertips against Bitty’s neck. He pulls out one earbud and smiles when Bitty looks up at him.

“What are you listening to?” 

“I found a crappy bootleg of _Hamilton_.” 

“Really?” 

“Recorded on someone’s phone, probably. But there’s not going to be a soundtrack recorded until after it transfers to Broadway, so.” 

Jack puts the earbud in his own ear. It’s an incredibly bad recording, but Jack listens along anyway. He picks up on new details he’d missed before, including some innuendo about Hamilton and Laurens that he’ll tell Bitty about later. For now he closes his eyes and strokes Bitty’s back, and tries to keep his brain in this moment where everything is good and easy and happy. Bitty tangles their fingers together, and Jack feels a rush of warmth so big it’s almost overwhelming. 

Eliza Schuyler sings about feeling helplessly in love, and yeah — he’s right there with her.

Bitty’s hand stills on Jack’s thigh as he drifts to sleep. The warmth and ease of it lulls Jack’s senses too, and he finally gives in and pauses the music. He edges down in the seat enough to prop his head more comfortably against the window and closes his eyes.

“Jack?” 

Jack opens his eyes to see Shitty looking at him in the rear-view mirror. It’s dark out now, so he must have been asleep for a while. “Where are we?”

“Just north of Providence. Lardo and I were thinking we could stop and get something to eat before we head home.”

They can eat at the Haus, probably, but the idea of not quite ending the trip yet is appealing. Jack nods. “Yeah, okay.”

“Burger sound good?” Lardo asks, tapping at the screen of her phone.

“Uh… sure.” They’re still on vacation. Jack figures one more unhealthy meal probably won’t hurt him.

Bitty stretches and yawns on his lap, and Jack reaches down to scritch him behind the ears like a cat. He smiles up at Jack, sleepy and sweet. “Hey.” 

“Better?” Jack asks, and Bitty nods, yawns again. He sits up and scrubs his hands over his face. His hair is doing a strange thing on one side. Jack considers running his fingers through it to straighten it out, but before he can, Bitty settles against his side. Jack drapes an arm around him. 

“Everything is better today.” Bitty makes a sound like a happy sigh.

The butterflies in Jack’s stomach take off all at once, and he suddenly doesn’t want to waste any more of the time he has left at Samwell. He presses a kiss into Bitty’s hair and Bitty turns his head to catch Jack’s lips with his own. Jack ducks his head down to deepen the kiss, and a blissful minute goes by before he hears a groan from the front seat.

“Get a fuckin’ room, you two.” Jack looks up to see Lardo grinning at them over her shoulder. Bitty turns Jack’s head back and kisses him again, then flips Lardo off.

Jack wonders if they can getting away with sleeping together tonight, curled around each other in one of their tiny beds. 

It’s late when they get back to the Haus, past the time Jack usually goes to bed on a school night. Some of the frogs are piled up on the couch watching a movie when they come in, and they all look up and shout in greeting. There are half a dozen empty pizza boxes strewn about and the couch is surrounded by a truly astonishing number of empty beer cans. Their teammates apparently enjoyed spending a weekend in the Haus while a large portion of its residents were gone. 

“Y’all planning to pick that mess up?” Bitty sounds annoyed, but he pauses to ruffle Chowder’s hair affectionately, which ruins the effect.

“There’s dibs on the line, frogs,” Shitty says, slinging an arm around Lardo’s shoulders. They stare at each other for a full second before they scramble off the couch to get to work.

Jack quirks an eyebrow at Shitty, who winks back. Shitty’s dibs are a done deal, but Jack supposes that whoever gets his will have to meet Bitty’s approval anyway.

Shitty and Lardo head straight to Shitty’s room, arms wound around each other. Jack isn’t really surprised. He’d offered to drive the rest of the way after their dinner stop, and Shitty and Lardo had spent the remainder of the trip noisily making out in the back seat. Jack finally gave up chirping them about it when Lardo threatened to blow Shitty right then and there if he didn’t lay off. Jack and Bitty had exchanged a truly impressive number of smirks for the rest of the drive.

The frogs ask Bitty about the weekend and he seems interested in chatting with them, so Jack heads upstairs to leave him to it. He changes into a soft t-shirt and boxers, brushes his teeth, and settles on the bed with his book. He tries not to think too hard about what might or might not happen tonight, but he can’t deny that being back at the Haus makes it all feel real in a way it didn’t that morning. Fifteen minutes later, there’s a soft knock at his door, and Jack exhales with relief.

Bitty’s dressed in worn cotton pajama pants and a t-shirt with the faded emblem of his high school hockey team on it. He closes the door behind him and climbs onto the bed next to Jack.

“Is this okay? No one saw me.”

Jack sets the book down and pulls Bitty into a kiss, a little more desperately than he’d intended. Bitty groans and climbs into his lap, and it’s suddenly hot and heavy. They paw at each other through their clothes for several minutes before separating long enough to take them off, and that’s when they hear it: the distinct sound of the headboard in the next room thumping against the wall.

Bitty snickers against Jack’s shoulder. “Lord, I did not need to know exactly what they’re doing in there.”

Jack almost suggests they make a competition of it, but then he remembers: they can’t. This thing between him and Bitty has to be a secret. As much as he wants to shout it from the rooftops, he can’t. He stares up at the ceiling.

Bitty tugs the covers back and slides under. “Hey, come down here.”

Jack sighs and stretches out alongside him. Bitty kisses him softly and strokes his cheek.

“You all right?”

Jack nods.

“Still up for it?”

Jack grins and kisses him. 

“Hold out your hand.”

Jack does, and Bitty reaches down between them. Jack holds his breath, expecting to feel the touch of his hand, but instead Bitty’s hand goes into his own pocket. He comes back up with a small tube. He flips the cap and squirts liquid into Jack’s hand. 

Jack raises his eyebrows. “Lube?”

Bitty gets some in his own hand and grins, then reaches below the covers again and slips his hand under the waistband of Jack’s boxers. Jack’s breath hitches at the sensation of cool slickness against his dick, and then again as Bitty begins to work it to hardness. It’s a moment before Jack remembers to reciprocate, but the sound Bitty makes when he does is incredible. 

They stay like that for a long time, stroking each other to the edge of orgasm and backing off again, kissing lazily. Shitty and Lardo finally go quiet next door. The Haus is so dark and still that only the sound of their own breathing fills their ears. When Jack finally comes, it’s with a gasp and his own hand pressed against his mouth. Bitty is equally silent, but Jack sees the expression on his face in the dim light, knows it was intense. 

“I can go if you want,” Bitty says after they clean themselves up.

“Please stay.” Jack turns onto his side and Bitty spoons up behind him. “You’ll be less likely to have witnesses for your walk of shame in the morning anyway.” 

Bitty snickers. “True.”

“Fair warning: I’m waking you up at 5:30 to go running.” 

Bitty groans. “The season’s over.” 

“I have training camp in a few weeks. I can’t afford to slack off.” Jack puts a hand over the one Bitty has pressed against his chest. “And I’m not the one who ate a meal that consisted almost entirely of pastry today.”

“I have all summer to work it off.”

“But you only have a few more weeks to go running with me.”

Bitty whines and presses his forehead against Jack’s shoulder. “I was gonna make you crepes, though.”

“Make them after we go for that run and take a nice long shower.” He kisses Bitty's palm. “Together.”

He feels a smile against his skin. “Well, if that’s how it’s going to be, I guess it’s all right.”

Bitty tightens his arms around Jack, and Jack closes his eyes.

They get up early and go for a run, and have incredibly filthy shower sex. Bitty makes crepes, and Shitty and Lardo stumble downstairs to join them at the table. They all drink coffee and laugh and eat, and Shitty makes a pointed comment about hoping there’s some hot water left and that the shower was hosed down, because _rude_. Bitty takes Jack’s hand under the table and squeezes it, and laughs.

There is one more week of classes, then Spring C, then reading week and Bitty’s birthday. Jack smiles into his coffee cup at that thought. Then his mom is going to help him find an apartment in Providence, one he can’t help imagining he’ll share with Bitty one day soon. (He makes a mental note to tell the realtor that he’s looking for a top-of-the-line kitchen. Nice appliances. Double ovens, minimum.) Then final exams — of which he has only one — plus a photography exhibition (already put together, though he may add in some of the photos from the weekend). Then graduation, and that’s… it. His time at Samwell will be over.

The thought isn’t anywhere near as scary as it was just a few days ago. He pulls Bitty’s hand to his mouth and kisses the soft skin on the back of it. Bitty’s cheeks turn pink and Lardo makes a gagging sound, but Shitty’s eyes are bright and green, and he smiles warmly at Jack. 

This is going to be his life now — as much as he can manage it, anyway: Bitty in his bed and in his apartment and in his heart and his family. Everything is suddenly, spectacularly, new and different and exciting.

This is real, Jack thinks. He grins into his coffee and lets himself imagine the future. And for once, it feels good.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Any kudos or comments you are inclined to leave will be gratefully accepted.
> 
> My multi-fandom mess of a Tumblr: [emmagrant01](http://emmagrant01.tumblr.com)


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